


jacob's ladder

by Khismer



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, PWP, dick piercings, it's a type of piercing and also apparently a horror film, no pronouns for reader but they are presumed dfab, please don't look up the fic title if you want to find out what it’s referencing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khismer/pseuds/Khismer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Listen, I know you have this whole aesthetic thing going on, but this is just too much.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>sometimes you ask yourself terrible questions, and the question asked this time was “do you think saeran is enough of an edgelord to get dick piercings?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	jacob's ladder

“This,” you say at last, “is just too much.”

He’d  _ told  _ you, of course, but… no amount of words could have prepared you fully for this. 

You run a finger up his length, circling each stud, base to tip, that’s set into the top of his dick. His hips jerk a little, but he still scowls -- or pouts, really -- at you. They’re not  _ big,  _ but there's a good half dozen of them, and you purse your lips, trying to take this in. 

“I just -- I know you have this whole aesthetic thing going on--” Now it's a full scowl. “--but is this even safe? For you? For  _ me? _ ” You splay your hand out over your chest in mock-consternation, though the effect is somewhat ruined by your current shirtless state. 

“Of  _ course _ it is,” he says, and you try not to laugh at how petulant he sounds about all this. So much for that aloof image. 

You could still back out now. -- well, you could back out later, too, but if it hurts you'll wish you had stopped earlier. If it doesn’t, though, it'll probably just be… weird but manageable, at worst. Because -- people do this, right? You're not the most well-versed in the art of  _ dick piercings _ , but it is  _ done _ . 

And, well. Shit, now you're curious. 

“Fine,” you say, “fine, but this -- is  _ so _ extra.” 

You raise yourself up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck as you position yourself. “Ohhhh- _ kay _ ,” you mutter, “nooooo big deal.”

His hands slide down your waist to rest at your hips, and slowly you start to sink, slow enough that it takes a moment to reach even the first stud, just past the head, and there you pause. He grips your hips a little harder, and you swat at his hands. “Quit it, quit it, quit it,” you say. “Don't rush me.”

He makes a face at you --  _ childish, impatient bastard _ , you think, with far more fondness than it warrants -- but he stills. 

You try to get your bearings, there. Breathe in, breathe out, try to envision what it'll feel like. 

At the angle you're leaning into him, the stud rests at your entrance, and barely, barely grazes the bottom of your clit, more and then less each time you breathe in, breathe out. A small change, but… nice. Gives you the courage to move. 

You push forward a little more

“Ngh…”

You were right. It does feel odd. But not unpleasantly so. It slips in with ease, a little cold, and it's presence is certainly  _ new _ , but once it's in it feels as though it will let you move without problems. Hmm. 

You bob a little, experimenting, let yourself rise and sink again over it.  Your breath catches as it slips in the second time, but otherwise, it goes smoothly. 

So. The rest should be no problem, right?

Still with your arms around his neck, you use your nails to trace aimless spirals into his skin as you lower yourself a little more. 

Despite anticipating it, you still slow as you verge on the second one, and you allow yourself a shorter moment before taking it in. It goes much the same as the first, and so you almost,  _ almost _ keep from stopping before the third stud, hips stuttering instead of full-on stopping, but there's still a bit of hesitation in you, the worry that even if he others were fine,  _ this one  _ will hurt,  _ this one  _ will be too much. 

You manage it but -- he notices, apparently, because he leans in to press a kiss at the junction of your neck and then bites down. 

Your fingers wind into his hair, encouraging  _ his  _ encouragement. It steals your attention away, and pushes you down a little besides, so you take in the fourth without slowing and keep going. 

You can't pinpoint  _ exactly  _ what it is that feels different that time -- there's still that same momentary resistance, that same little jolt as it pops in -- but…  _ God _ , something about it just feels  _ better _ . Just a touch more  _ satisfying _ when it slips in without stopping, and you quake as you slide over the next one, too. 

The last one presses at your clit more directly than any of them, and your breath catches, turns into a drawn-out groan as you finally sink to a kneeling position. 

And then they're all in. There's an odd sense of accomplishment that accompanies that thought. 

“So?” he says, and for a moment you blink at him, not understanding. 

“You still think it's  _ extra?”  _ He runs his hands from your hips to your thighs, letting them linger, and you tremble a little. 

Still. “Oh, shit yes,” you say, “it absolutely is. It’s maybe the  _ most _ extra thing about you, and that's saying something.” 

His lips twist into a displeased pout, and you start to laugh, but it turns into a moan as he pushes you up by your thighs so a stud slips out, just barely. The slight tremor in his hands keeps it there, teasing at your entrance, angled to press at your clit, and your eyes go half-lidded. 

“Nnnot faiiiiiir,” you gasp, and he laughs quietly. 

He hitches you up just slightly more, then lets go, and you groan as you sink. 

He moves his hands as if to hold you up again, and you stutter out, “h-hey, asshole, I can move on my own, y’know?” It's meant to be chiding, but it comes out like a whimper. 

“Yeah,” he says, lips curling up in a lazy smile, “but you like when I do it.”

“First of a-ah-ahhhhh--” Your admonishment goes unfinished as he hoists you up, and you clutch at his arms as he begins to move you.

With the way he takes charge like this, you could think of it like he's using you to fuck himself, but you don't think that's _quite_ true, and you think it's even less true when his pace stutters so he can lean into trail kisses up your neck, sometimes lingering, marking, sometimes whisperingly light. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin.

You should never tell him when he does something you like, or he'll get unbearably cocky like this, or… maybe you should always tell him. It's insufferable, but damn if cockiness doesn't look good on him.

When your eyelashes begin to flutter shut, you push a little at his hands, “enough, enough, I wanna do it.” As before, he gives you a squeeze before letting go obligingly.

You teeter a little without that pressure guiding you upright -- God, you're already so close, he's never going to let you hear the end of this later -- but soon you rise, letting him slip out of you fully.

You draw in a deep breath, line yourself up, and drop.

It's a quick sheathe, and you're shaking as you take him in again, feel that litany of tiny little bursts of pressure, of resistance, suddenly fitting snug inside you. 

“G _od_ , Saeran,” you say, and it comes out like a sob.

You're a wreck, and your only consolation is that he is, too. You lose the energy to pull out fully each time you bounce, and thankfully he snaps his hips up to meet yours, and you can feel yourself coming to that edge.

He groans and pitches forward a little, tightening his grip on you. He murmurs your name, then nips your earlobe and presses a kiss just below it, and this is all the warning you get before he empties himself inside you.

“Ah--” It's a sudden burst of warmth that spreads through you, and your eyes widen and you clutch at him harder in surprise. He draws back enough for you to look at him, and you try to muster up a glare, some way of showing your resentment. Could have at least _said_ something first.

But -- he's looking at you from beneath his eyelashes, gaze hungry and sated all at once, and you will _never, never hear the end of this_ because that that's what makes you come undone, _that's_ what pushes you over the edge. 

“Mnn--”

You curl into him as your orgasm hits you, feeling like every inch of you is trembling. You blink heavily as the aftershocks leave you, once, twice, three times. 

In your haze you mutter, “I  _ just  _ washed these sheets, I can't believe you.” 

He hums a little, not looking the least bit sorry. On the contrary, he appears rather smug about this whole affair. 

You move to get up, but the moment the lowest stud slips out of you, you gasp and drop back down, the stimulation too much for you. 

You brace yourself on his shoulders and try again. You're a little better prepared this time, but you whine a little as you drag yourself up, squeezing your eyes shut as the studs drag past oversensitive skin. 

You're still collecting yourself when he reaches a hand between your legs, and you jolt as he swirls his index finger around your opening.

He wipes what he finds there on your stomach, and laughs when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Rude,” you say, in mock-offense, and he mimics your tone. 

“You  _ started  _ it.”

It's charming, in an asshole sort of way, the good mood this puts him in. Makes it harder to hold a grudge against him. 

“Well…” You roll your shoulders to work out the kinks and sigh. “If the sheets are already ruined, we may as well go again.”

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: both this mc and saeran are Hot Disasters; please do not follow their example and always have safe sex using a condom. thank u.


End file.
